


Still the Same Boy

by Raisans_Grapeon



Series: Godfather Techno [2]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Dadza, Dead Wilbur Soot, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Godfather Technoblade, Hurt Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt/Comfort, Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Post-Manberg-Pogtopia War on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade & Phil Watson Friendship (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade and Wilbur Soot are not Siblings, sleepy bois inc - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:34:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29506284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raisans_Grapeon/pseuds/Raisans_Grapeon
Summary: Techno finds his godson after the war in the face of a dead man.
Relationships: Phil Watson & Wilbur Soot, Technoblade & Phil Watson, Technoblade & Wilbur Soot, Technoblade & Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson
Series: Godfather Techno [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2107524
Comments: 30
Kudos: 86





	Still the Same Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and thank you for dropping by! It's really appreciated! 
> 
> This started as a string of passages I wrote on my phone while I was on the toilet and then it just turned into a whole fic. Short and not so sweet, but I had a good time writing this.
> 
> I'd like to bring to your attention that I am not a professional at this nor have I ever taken a single class in creative writing. That being said, I'd love it if you find anything to critique to share it with me! Or just any passing comments. Comments are the lifeblood of us writers on ao3 and every single one is thoroughly cherished!
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

The world was silent after war. It always was. Those who were going to die have passed and the survivors either too tired or too stunned to speak. Even the leaves and grass whispered. 

Orange blazed across the sky and turned the white clouds a haunting shade of pink. Technoblade stood on uneven terrain and looked to the horizon line. Gnarled roots and leaves wove around rocks, their sickly black roses long since plucked by stragglers. Smoke still rose from smoldering fields and burning wood. The world was silent, and Technoblade was the only one alone on the battlefield.

Some part of him refused to say that his friend was alone as well. 

Letting his gaze wander to the hillside where a podium once stood, Techno could see a shadow illuminated by dying rays.

Technoblade understood wholeheartedly why Phil strayed back to that hole in the wall, and why he had yet to leave. Still, he wished that he could’ve made it in before anyone else to pay his respects in solitude. It would’ve been preferred. 

But he’d be damned if he even thought about leaving without seeing the man behind it all one last time.

The climb up to the room was dodgy. Rocks constantly shifted under Techno’s hooves and the face of the hill had become rather steep. Hauling himself up, Technoblade huffed and observed the room for the first time.

Loose pebbles and stones tumbled down from the cracked roof overhead. It all was hanging on some invisible thread that said that this moment in history could never truly collapse. The rocks hit the floor with a chorus of clinks and thunks, spitefully unwilling to let the dead rest in peace.

The dead.

That's why he was even in the crumbling overhang. The dead, strewn out across the lap of the mourning as his head was cradled with all the love and care one could expect from a doting father. Dust was settled over the dead's wistful face as if he had already been forgotten.

“Phil.”

It felt strange initiating.

“Techno.”

It felt stranger hearing a powerful man sound so incredibly small.

“I came to pay my respects…” Techno supposed he sounded no better.

With a solemn nod from Phil, Techno settled beside his trembling friend. Beside his still godson. He stared into the face of a man who died long ago when he was removed from his love like a tumor.

The face of a man who had just hours before had a grin stitched into his face and a somber resolve set on his shoulders.

The face of a man who drifted through valley halls with gunpowder-dipped fingertips.

The face of a teen who got into the sand before Techno could make the TNT necessary for Phil's newest build.

The face of a kid who wove a tale about the exploits of the Blood God with jaunty guitar plucks and his own lilting voice.

The face of a toddler who ran into Technoblade's arms with such certainty that he'd keep him safe from the zombie hoard that kept pursuit.

More dust settled as it worked its way into Techno's eyes. It burned something fierce. It weighted the air and made it feel like every breath was full of rocks. His chest pulled in tight in defiance. 

"It's okay, Techno," Phil's weary voice barely drifted by with a mix of understanding and care. "I know you were close to him."

It felt odd not having the energy to feel confused. "What do you mean, Phil?" Techno inquired anyway. He could barely hear himself over the rhythmic pumping of blood that coursed relentlessly through his ears, the beat never slowing from the fight.

Calloused and bloodied fingers rested gently against Techno's leg. "It's okay if you cry, mate."

Now that was enough to kick bewilderment into the spotlight, something other than his still rapid heartbeat and mounting pain in his chest finally taking center stage.

"I don't know what you mean."

Phil attempted to force a chuckle, but it only came out dry and broken. "I'm pretty sure if you blinked, it'd all be over."

Almost to spite him, Techno did blink. A tear rolled down his flushed pink skin, leaving a trail of heat behind it. Surprise crashed in, causing him to blink a few more times to regain his bearings, unleashing more and more.

The face of the  ~~_toddler_ _kid_ _teen_~~ man in front of him would've laughed at the sight.

“I-...” Techno didn’t dare to continue. Not with the way his voice tightened and broke after one word. He just kept blinking, trying to clear the tears away as fast as possible.

Phil didn’t laugh. Not even a good-natured chuckle. Just a trembling hand trying to be steady and his own emotions slowly trickling out into the atmosphere. “I could hardly recognize him. He looks so…” Techno could fill in the blank easily, having noticed it the moment he arrived at Pogtopia.

_ Tired. Scared. Derranged. Sad. _

“Dead.”

Silence followed.

He hadn’t meant for that to slip out, but they all heard it. Neither even opened their mouth to combat it.

“Yeah…” Phil finally responded. “He’s not the same anymore.” The words came out as verbal resignment. Acceptance that he had lost his son long before his blood drained out onto the stone floor.

Techno’s chest tightened further, unable to deny the grief he felt seeing his best friend look so utterly hopeless and stranded. Shifting his blurred gaze back down to his godson, he cleared his throat and leaned over to softly prod at the body’s chin. 

“His beard still struggles like it did when he was 16.”

Phil looked at him with confusion set on his face. Techno continued, moving his clawed finger to point at the dead’s cheek.

“And despite everything, his cheeks never really hollowed out. They squish just like they did when he was five.”

Shifting back over to his son, Phil observed the way Techno’s claw pressed into the far too pale skin. He reached a hand out to feel for himself and began to shake. Slowly, his finger drifted from his skin to his hair.

“His hair is still tangled,” he mumbled wistfully. “He never put the time into combing it himself.”

Techno nodded, moving to lightly grip an arm. “He still has no muscle. Even when he was 18 he could never build definition despite our sparring.”

Phil brushed a thumb over his son’s nose. “He has the same nose from when he was 7 after breaking it when you let him fall out of a tree.”

Techno held the dead’s hand. “His fingertips still have callouses from the guitar strings.”

Phil used his palm to cover the dead’s mouth. “His lips never chapped.”

On and on they took turns picking memories out of the body before them, pointing at all the similarities that brought the man back to the bright-eyed boy who they knew years ago. His thin shoulders, his soft jawline, his premature crow’s feet. 

Finally, Phil couldn’t continue, hunching over his son as sobs tore through him with murderous intent. He started with sniffs and chokes on air, dissolving into wails and cries. Pleas for his son reverberated in a horrifying echo. He grasped at the coat Phil had never seen before as he pulled the limp body into his own, hugging and praying for a sign of life that he had missed in the hours since he left to join the battle. 

Techno couldn’t move to do anything, not that he even wanted to. Some instinct in him told him that nothing he could do or say would curb the thick muck of emotions that Phil was stuck in. So he settled on watching and processing by himself. An old, familiar urge to deny any relation to the dead tugged again. It almost felt laughable to consider fooling himself, having accepted his role in his godson’s life many years ago when the man was only a toddler. He couldn’t say he didn’t care anymore because he did. Far too much for his own liking, but he cared so much that that didn’t matter. And the consequences were before him. Grief was at his door and it would stay until he let it in and let it melt by the fireplace to leave a stain on the carpet. 

In his defense, he never expected to outlive his godson.

Techno knew Phil never expected it either. He had considered it, but never expected it. And certainly not like this.

The cries died down, and Phil was back to where he was when Techno first came in. Shivering over his son as he held the dead’s head with tender love and care. 

“You should rest,” the piglin tried, hoping to get them both away from the oppressive weight of mourning that hung in the cave. Sunlight had long since abandoned them.

Phil said nothing in response, not making any move to stand.

Techno sighed. “You can’t stay here all night.”

“I have nowhere else to be.” The words were barely a breath of air.

“I always have a bed for you,” he murmured back as he stood, legs aching. 

Phil shook his head, hands tensing around his son. “I can’t leave Wil alone…”

Techno rested a heavy hand on his friend’s shoulder. “You can sort him out tomorrow. You-” he caught himself, “- we. We need to rest after today.” The please was implied.

Not looking up, the father stood, staring down at his soiled robes. Techno lead the man down the rocky face of the hill, eyes narrowing in the dark to catch the best places for footholds. 

The craters were still, even the smoke and ash deciding to rest for the night. Temporary tents were easy enough to avoid, and the railway back to Pogtopia was predictably abandoned. Forgoing the ravine, no doubt a prime candidate for bringing up uncomfortable questions from Phil, the two made their way into Techno’s base for the remainder of the night.

“There’s a bed for you down in the vault. Getting back to L’manburg is easy: just follow the railway back,” Techno explained, ready to fall face-first into his own bed and sleep away the exhaustion in his bones.

Phil hesitated before sliding down the ladder to his bed. “You’re not going back with me.”

“I’m not going to be welcome there,” Techno supplied plainly, unbothered.

Phil hummed. “Right. I’ll see you when I see you then.”

“If you don’t go blind first.”

Techno was rewarded with a small huff before the striped bucket hat disappeared down into the lower levels of the base.

Alone again, Technoblade barely manages to take his cape and boots off before rolling onto his own bed, ignoring the sheets in favor of shut-eye.

That night, Techno dreamed of a toddler asking him to tell the story of the raven who slayed the dragon.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading through to the end! It means a ton!
> 
> Again, any comments at all are always appreciated and encouraged along with kudos! But you just being here is plenty enough if you want to leave it at this!
> 
> Thank you again for reading! Stay healthy


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